Finders Keepers (25 page)
“I gave up caring what the neighbors think a long time ago. They thought I was nuts to open an antiques shop on the town square. They couldn’t believe I wanted to live in the apartment behind it. They called me crazy when I went to Romania to adopt Nick. The residents of Ambleside don’t run my life.”
“Then why won’t you go inside with me? We could sit on the couch and … and visit.”
She tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. “Visit?”
“OK, I’d rather not kiss you in front of God and everybody.”
“God’s in my living room, Zachary.”
“God doesn’t mind when people kiss.”
“Is that all you want to do?” She gripped the chain. “Because that’s not all I want to do.”
He regarded her evenly. “Elizabeth …”
“Zachary, I can’t. I won’t.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked away. “I’m not used to this. I mean, a man dates a woman …”
“I’m not just any woman.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll understand if you want to rethink this.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do? Sit out here on the porch swing night after night?”
“I didn’t ask you to be a part of my life. I’m telling you who I am and what I believe. I follow the teachings in the Bible. I try to stay surrendered. And, yeah, I sit on the porch swing a lot.”
He walked to the white railing that defined the perimeter of her porch and leaned his hands on it. “This is not the nineteenth century, Elizabeth. Is it wrong to want each other, to feel desire?” He gave the railing a smack with his palm and then swung around to face her. “How much am I supposed to change who I am, Elizabeth? I want you. I want to be with you. Am I supposed to give up who I am and what I need?”
“That’s the definition of surrender, isn’t it? Give up. Let go. Become a new man in Christ.” She sat down on the swing. “I didn’t say it was easy.”
He turned away again, his shoulder against the porch post. Elizabeth watched him, sure she could read his thoughts. He probably had known many women, and no doubt he’d experienced the range of relationships with them. What was the point of spending time with an old-fashioned prude who threw biblical admonitions at him? How boring.
“I don’t know,” he said. “A few months ago, I was an award-winning architect with a pretty active social life. Now I’m supposed to throw in the towel on my dreams for a new office building. And I’m supposed to sit on a porch swing with the mosquitoes.”
“A few months ago, I was a businesswoman and mother,” Elizabeth said. “Now I’m supposed to give up my quiet security, my stability, my risk-free life. And I’m supposed to sit on a porch swing with the mosquitoes.”
“No, you’d be sitting on the porch swing with me.”
“And you’d be sitting with me.” She crossed her arms. “That’s what it all comes down to, you know. Is each of us willing to accept who the other one really is? I’m a porch-swing woman.”
“Well, I’m an inside-the-house man.”
They stared at each other.
Elizabeth knew it was the end. Zachary had made a lot of changes in his life. But he wasn’t going to go this far. This went beyond surrendering dreams and goals. This meant surrendering himself, right down to the core. And she could see in his eyes, he wouldn’t do it.
“Boy howdy, ya’ll better come quick!” Ben the policeman flew around the corner of the house and leaped onto the porch, his black boots sending up a puff of dust. “We got trouble. Big trouble now.”
“Trouble?” Jolted back into focus, Elizabeth stood up. “What’s going on, Ben?”
“Lord have mercy, it’s them kids.”
“The teenagers? What have they done?”
“Not
them
kids.
Ya’ll’s
kids. Nick and that little red-haired Easton gal.”
“What’s happened to Nick?” She grabbed the man’s arm. “Where’s my son?”
“Mick’s got the both of them over at the police station.”
“Are they hurt?”
“No, ma’am. But they’re in trouble. Big trouble. And that boy of yours is hollering like a lonesome coyote. The way he howls sends shivers right down my spine. The little gal is crying her eyes out, too. I felt bad we had to take the both of them over to the station. But what else could we do? Mick said it was protocol. I thought I’d run fetch the redhead’s dad, but then I remembered about her mama dying and all. So I came straight over here to get you.”
“What did they do, Ben?”
He shook his head. “You ain’t gonna believe it. I sure didn’t.”
“Ben!”
“They went over to Phil Fox’s house to look at his puppies, and they up and stole his ’64 World Series baseball. Then they took a big ol’ rock and threw it right through the plate-glass window of his barbershop. ’Course Mr. Fox realized his baseball was missin’ right away, and he figured out who took it. He called us about the time them kids was throwin’ that rock through his window. When Mick and I got over to the barber shop, sure enough, they was standin’ right there at the scene of the crime lookin’ just as guilty as you please. There’s glass everywhere, I’m tellin’ you. Once I take you over to the station, I got to run back and sweep it up.”
Horror and disbelief coursed down Elizabeth’s spine. “Why?” she managed. “Why did they do it?”
“Well, that’s what we asked ’em, but we couldn’t make heads or tails out of what they told us. The little gal took to cryin’ so hard she couldn’t talk. Your boy just blabbered pure nonsense. I tried to write it down. Lemme see.” He pulled his notebook from his back pocket. “Here we go. He said there were some bad guys at Grace’s house and they looked like nachos, whatever that means. And then he started talking about foxes, and he was tellin’ me how foxes are just like nachos. Now does that make any sense to you?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Then he told me that him and the little gal wanted to make you feel better, Miss Hayes, so they took the baseball for ransom. Ransom—that was his exact word.”
“Oh, no.”
“I wrote down everything your boy said as best as I could, but it didn’t make one lick of sense to me.”
Elizabeth folded her hands together and pressed them to her lips.
Oh, God, please help me. I’m so scared for Nick. I don’t know how to help him—
“Come on,” Zachary said, his warm hand covering hers. “Sounds like our little crusaders are about due for a rescue.”
She shook her head. “Oh, Zachary, you don’t have to—”
“Lead the way, Ben.” Zachary cut her off and gave a nod in the direction of the police station. “And while we walk, I’ll explain to you about the nachos.”
Zachary stood to one side as Elizabeth rushed across the front lobby of the police station and scooped her son into her arms. She was crying, and Nick’s wails blended with Montgomery’s spasmic sobs. Zachary knew he ought to get out of there as fast as he could run. This wasn’t his business. All this weeping and turmoil had nothing to do with him. Experience had taught him to detach himself from situations rife with emotion.
Once he had watched his own father and mother shrug and walk away from him. Screaming, crying, he had been gripped by the state social worker assigned to place him in foster care. He could remember the despair that overwhelmed him. Strength and rage poured through his young body, and he had broken free and run to his parents. But his father had turned to him and pushed him away.
No, Zachary. We can’t take care of everybody. Be a man.
Zachary, the man, studied the scene unfolding before him. Elizabeth was explaining her son’s behavior to the policemen while Mick took notes. Ben had begun dialing Montgomery’s father. No longer howling, Nick stood white and trembling at his mother’s side. Montgomery had curled into a tiny ball of despair and scooted herself under a desk.
Don’t care, Zachary. Walk out. You’re not a porch-swing man. You don’t need these people and their troubles. You can’t take care of everybody.
He slipped his hands into his pockets and turned toward the door. They’d work it out. He would go back to his cool apartment, where he could put on some soothing music and read this week’s issue of
Time.
He’d probably plug into the Net and check his stocks. And then maybe he’d dip himself a big bowl of Central Dairy’s mint chocolate chip ice cream. The best. He would prop up his feet and—
As he started to push open the glass door, he caught a reflection of Elizabeth’s long brown hair.
You’ve done your part, Zachary. Go home.
Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at the little ball of whimpering misery under the desk.
“Hey, Montgomery,” he said, wheeling around. “What’s your favorite kind of ice cream? You like mint chocolate chip?”
Kneeling, he peered under the desk. The child’s tear-stained, grimy face emerged from the shadows. She sniffled.
“I bet you’re a rocky-road gal, aren’t you?” he said.
She ran a fist under her wet nose. “Banilla.”
“Banana?”
A reluctant smile lifted her trembling lips. She sucked down a shaky breath. “Banilla. It’s white.”
“Plain ol’ white? Listen, have you ever tried mint chocolate chip? I’ve got a whole box of it in the freezer over at my place. When we get done here, we could all go over there and eat some.”
Her face crumpled again. “But we broke the window.”
“I know you did, and that was a wrong thing to do.” He reached out and took her damp hand. “Guess what. I’ve done some wrong things, too.”
“My daddy’s going to be mad.”
“Maybe so.” He considered the situation. “I reckon it’s a daddy’s job to help his daughter learn to do the right things. He’ll probably be disappointed, but I suspect he’ll understand that you and Nick thought you were helping out.”
“I want my mommy!” She covered her face with her hands and began to sob again.
Zachary reached under the desk, slipped his hands around the little girl, and eased her out into the open. Then he picked her up and held her against his chest. Mick was filling out papers. Ben had left to begin sweeping up broken glass. Nick and Elizabeth were pressed into a single chair as she tried to explain her son’s behavior for the police report. When the door burst open, Zachary turned to see Luke Easton barreling into the station like a locomotive.
“Montgomery?” Spotting her in Zachary’s arms, he crossed the room in two paces and lifted her into his embrace. “Oh, baby, come here, sweet pea. Don’t cry now. Daddy’s got you. It’s OK, honey, it’ll be all right.”
As Luke and his daughter joined Elizabeth and her son at Mick’s desk, Zachary headed for the door. He would go to his apartment now. The music and magazine and stock market would be there waiting for him. So would his single bowl of ice cream. He’d eat it alone … and wish he didn’t have to.
“They thought they could defeat Mr. Fox, the barber,” Boompah said as he arranged a plate of his day-old muffins on the tea table at Finders Keepers. “It is my fault.”
“Your fault, Boompah?” Elizabeth punched a hole in the price tag she had written up for an antique trunk. “I don’t see how you can say that. Nick and Montgomery cooked up their little stone-throwing escapade all by themselves.”
“But I had told Nikolai the story of how the Jews fought secretly against the Germans in the ghettos of Poland. He believed he could drive away your enemy in the same way.”
Elizabeth tied the price tag to the trunk with a narrow white ribbon. “The Polish Jews did not do things like steal a man’s prized baseball and try to hold it for ransom.”
“Ransom?”
“Montgomery wrote the note. ‘Mr. Fox: If you ever want to see your baseball again, you better stay away from Grace’s house.’”
“Oh dear.”
“And it was some TV show that inspired them to tie the note around a rock and try to throw it through the barbershop door. Of course they missed, and the rock cracked the huge plate-glass window.”
“Mmm.” Boompah shook his head in dismay.
“Nick and Montgomery both know they are to respect the property of others. I’ve told Nick a hundred times to use his words and not his hands to solve his problems.”
“A very good teaching.”
“Well, he forgot all about it, and now he’s suffering the consequences.”
“What consequences are those?”
“He and Montgomery are performing community service. Luke Easton and I are paying to install a new glass window in the barbershop.”
“Community service? But they are only small children.”
“There are a lot of things those two small children can do, Boompah. Each afternoon they sweep sidewalks for Pearlene and me. They slide library cards into books for Ruby McCann. They fill napkin holders and saltshakers at Dandy Donuts. And they sort brochures for Phil Fox at the bus station. They start right after Nick gets home from summer school, and they’re done by dusk.”
“Ach. That Phil Fox, you know, I think he’s happy to have all the attention from the stealing of his baseball and the breaking of his window. I hear him at Dandy Donuts this morning talking about the next meeting of the city council. That man can talk and talk until you think you are going to have to throw a jelly donut at him to make him quiet.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Don’t throw anything at Phil Fox for a while, Boompah. Please! I can’t take another episode at the police station.”